


Warm Gold

by Laylah



Category: Xenogears
Genre: M/M, Marking, Piercings, Pre-Canon, Romantic Use of Bolt Cutters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm surprised you still have them," Kahr says quietly, his head resting on Sigurd's shoulder, his fingertips hovering over the laboratory tag in Sigurd's left nipple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Gold

"I'm surprised you still have them," Kahr says quietly, his head resting on Sigurd's shoulder, his fingertips hovering over the laboratory tag in Sigurd's left nipple.

Sigurd laughs, because sometimes if you don't laugh you'll cry. "Your idealism is one of the things I like best about you, Kahr." He feels Kahr tense against his side and turns to press a kiss to soft, pale hair. "They're designed to be hard to remove, and the tools aren't exactly easy for someone like me to come by. Hmm, the Lamb wants a set of bolt cutters. Why? Oh, no reason."

"You're a Gebler officer in training!" Kahr protests. "It's not like you're some skulking vagabond."

"It's nice to know somebody around here can tell the difference." If he lets this go on, though, Kahr will get worked up in the not-fun way. It's touching to feel defended sometimes, but tonight Sigurd really just wants to not think about Solaris's down sides. He takes Kahr's hand and pushes it down, toward the lowest of the tags the lab left in him. "Honestly, I don't mind them as much now that I've had a chance to find out how much fun they can be."

"Truly?" Kahr asks. He's too perceptive by half. He props himself up on one elbow, looking down the length of Sigurd's bare torso at their joined hands and the glint of metal between them. His thumb circles sensitive pierced flesh and Sigurd shudders, leaning into him. "That's some consolation, then."

The subject doesn't come up again that night, and keeping Kahr sufficiently distracted is a challenge Sigurd always enjoys. He puts the conversation out of his mind after a few days, filing it mentally with all the other evidence that when Kahr is in charge, Things Will Change.

Then comes the next evening when he has the room to himself, when Hyuga has made a point of announcing at dinner that he won't be home before morning—thank god and Solarian prejudice for assigning Sigurd an understanding roommate. He and Kahr exchange glances across the mess hall table, Kahr nods, and that's it: they have a date.

Kahr knocks at the door just before lights out in the dorm. Sigurd pulls him inside and pins him against the door for a kiss hello. His blood sings at the hard warmth of Kahr's body against his and the scrape of teeth against his lip. It's intoxicating, being together; the past is a blur but Sigurd can't imagine anything before the lab comparing to this.

When they break apart Kahr is already breathless, his lips and cheeks flushed, his eyes bright. "Miss me?" he asks.

"All the time," Sigurd answers, which is basically how it feels and also makes Kahr blush harder. He leans back in for round two but Kahr stops him with a hand on his chest.

"I brought you something."

"Oh?" Sigurd takes a step back to give Kahr room to move. 

He's brought his bookbag, but that's nothing new; he always brings a fresh uniform if he knows he'll be able to spend the night. He unzips it, reaches in and pulls out—

"Bolt cutters?" Sigurd can't help smiling. It's so charming, so _Kahr_ , to be unable to leave a problem alone. "They really bother you, don't they."

"I don't like the idea of you being marked as—as livestock! It's insulting. You shouldn't have to live with that."

"Thank you," Sigurd says softly, taking the bolt cutters from Kahr's outstretched hand. "It was sweet of you to do that for me."

"I'm not quite done," Kahr says. "I also thought—well, you said you liked the sensations, and that c-certainly seems to be true, so." He pulls something else out of his bag, a small plastic packet that he presses into Sigurd's other hand. "If you want to, you can wear those instead. They don't belong to some laboratory."

The packet contains four little smooth-polished gold rings, with beads of some dark stone to close them. Sigurd looks up at Kahr again. "They belong to you."

"No!" Kahr protests. "They're a gift, if you want them, that's all. I'm not trying to claim ownership. You belong to you."

He sounds so distraught, Sigurd has to hug him. "It's all right, Kahr. I'm not accusing you, I promise." For all his obvious strength and talent, he can be fragile at the strangest times. "That wasn't a complaint. ...I wouldn't mind wearing something of yours."

Kahr takes a shaky breath. "You... wouldn't mind?"

Sigurd pauses to consider his words before answering. "It sounds appealing," he says. "Carrying around a reminder like that. A way to keep you close to me all the time."

Kahr shudders in his arms, clinging to him tightly. "You want that?" The raw, needy edge to his voice makes Sigurd's cock throb.

"Here." Sigurd hands the cutters back to Kahr. "Get rid of them, and put the rings in instead." He steps back, pulling his shirt off before he climbs up to his bunk. Kahr follows, eyes wide as he crawls into the narrow bed. The way he looks at Sigurd has always been a mix of flattering and heartbreaking—behind the desire there's a hint of confusion, like he can't understand why he's allowed to have this closeness. 

This isn't the time to talk about it, though; instead Sigurd pulls him close and kisses him again, trying to chase the doubts away at least for tonight. Kahr relaxes against him, slowly, like snow melting, and Sigurd takes the opportunity to start tugging his shirt off. Metaphors about snow notwithstanding, Kahr's skin is always so warm, and it feels wonderful.

They break apart to be able to get Kahr's shirt over his head, which leaves his hair falling in his face, feathery soft and a mess. "You're distracting," he says with a smile. 

"I've been taught to take every advantage I can get," Sigurd retorts. 

Then the bolt cutters are in Kahr's hand again and Sigurd goes still, waiting. "Where should I start?"

The question grounds him. "This one," Sigurd says, pulling down the waistband of his pants just far enough to get them clear of the tag in his navel. "Start here." Might as well do the lowest-risk one first—not that he really expects anything to go wrong; Kahr is careful, and in the worst case scenario Hyuga has piles of Aquasol in the room to go along with his less mundane pharmaceuticals.

Cold metal brushes his skin for just a second as Kahr maneuvers the cutters into place; there's pressure, a tugging at the tag, and then the crisp sound of the metal shearing. Sigurd shivers.

"Are you all right?" Kahr asks immediately.

Sigurd nods. "Is it done?"

"The tag's cut. Let me put the ring in before you look." 

"Okay." He closes his eyes and lets Kahr work. The cut edge of the tag is a little sharp, but it's no big deal. There's more pressure when Kahr fixes the ring in place and Sigurd chews his lip, thinking about it. He was unconscious when the tags were placed originally—not out of any humanitarian impulse, he's sure, but just because they'd be easier to attach when he wasn't struggling. He woke up with the metal already in place, the skin around each piercing pink and shiny with the effects of accelerated healing.

"Done," Kahr says, sitting back on his heels. Sigurd abandons that train of thought. He can't undo what already happened, after all. And maybe this is the next best thing.

He props himself up on his elbows to look: the contrast of the gold pale against his skin is naggingly familiar, tugging at some memory he can't reach. He lets it go when it won't resolve, focusing on here and now, and Kahr's ring in his skin. _Kahr's_ ring in his skin.

"Yes," he says, goosebumps rising on his arms and his heart pounding. "Yes, do the others. Please."

His tone makes Kahr look up at his face, and Sigurd realizes he's going to associate the gold of the rings with the gold of Kahr's eyes forever.

"Anything you want," Kahr says. He leans down and kisses Sigurd's stomach above the ring, and Sigurd shivers with pleasure.

Switching out the ones in his nipples is more intense—he's paying more attention now and having them pierced already made them sensitive. Kahr handles them carefully, pulling and rolling flesh between his fingers as he eases the rings into place, looking up periodically to gauge the reactions he's getting. When he pinches hard enough that Sigurd's hips jerk involuntarily, his grin is almost feral.

It makes Sigurd want to reach out and grab him; instead, very deliberately, he raises his arms and crosses his wrists above his head. Kahr's hands dig into his flesh with a ferocity that feels almost desperate.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Putting myself at your mercy." It shouldn't be appealing; if he lets himself think too hard this could all fall apart. _Focus_ , he reminds himself. _Here and now_. He rocks his hips deliberately, grinding into Kahr's weight and letting the friction distract him.

Kahr pushes back, sliding down to straddle Sigurd's thighs and wrenching open the buttons of his pants. Sigurd's been hard since those first kisses and Kahr must have been able to feel it, but his eyes still widen as if he's surprised when he tugs Sigurd's pants down and can actually see it for himself. He leans down and kisses the head of Sigurd's cock, lingering, and Sigurd shivers. "Ready?"

Sigurd nods. "I'm in your hands."

Kahr kisses him again, then picks up the bolt cutters one more time. Sigurd props himself up on his elbows and watches Kahr cut the last tag, sober and focused. The moment feels charged, powerful; this is the last of the lab's marks of ownership, gone because of Kahr. It feels strange to have it pulled open and slipped free, then equally strange to have the cool golden ring slide into its place. Kahr's hands are careful and reverent, the process painless. Sigurd has never been harder in his life.

"They look good," Kahr says, hushed and hungry. "You look good."

He was offering himself up, wasn't he? Sigurd puts his hands above his head again, tells himself he's going to actually keep them there this time. Kahr seems to enjoy it, and also seems unlikely to push for it, and—maybe it's all right to stop rationalizing everything. Maybe for a little while he can let go.

Kahr leans forward, stretching out to pin Sigurd's wrists, and _oh_. Yes. That's—Kahr kisses him and Sigurd arches up into the kiss, grinding his cock against Kahr's weight. Kahr groans into his mouth and holds him tighter. Their cocks slide against each other and the ring pulls just slightly, different from the tag, a reminder that he's wearing Kahr's marks now.

"Please," he gasps, "Kahr, please, touch me," and Kahr does, one hand holding his wrists pinned and the other reaching down to trap their cocks together. Sigurd moans with pleasure, thrusting into Kahr's hand and stretching up for another sloppy, needy kiss. Tension spirals up from the base of his spine, sweet and thrumming, and he loses himself in it, the warm weight pressing him down and the delicious friction of Kahr's cock against his.

Climax comes quickly, a wrenching, sudden peak that almost hurts, it's so intense, and he bucks underneath Kahr as he trembles through it. "Yes," Kahr growls, "yes, Sigurd, _mine_." He slicks his hand with the mess on Sigurd's stomach and uses it to stroke himself, and the idea that fastidious Kahran Ramsus would do something that filthy out of desire for him wrecks Sigurd all over again.

"Yes, fuck—you're going to come all over me," Sigurd gasps out, and Kahr moans for him. "I want it, Kahr, want your come, want you to mark me with it."

Kahr shudders on top of him like he's been hit with an electric current, and paints Sigurd's torso in streaks of white. He's panting for breath, his hair in his eyes, the hand on Sigurd's wrists shaking. He's beautiful. 

Sigurd flexes his hands and Kahr sits back, releasing his wrists. Sigurd stretches, arching his back, showing off a little and enjoying the way Kahr looks at him. He's so thoroughly marked now—Kahr's rings, Kahr's come, his allegiance written all over his body. 

He doesn't belong to Solaris—not to some experimental drug laboratory, not to Jugend, not to Gebler. He belongs to Kahr, who cares about him and values him and is willing to fight to make other people see his worth.

He lowers his arms, rests his hands on the hard muscle of Kahr's thighs, smiles up at him. 

"You look pleased with yourself," Kahr says.

"And you sound smug about it," Sigurd answers. He pushes himself up to a sitting position, Kahr straddling his lap, and wraps his arms around Kahr's waist. "Hi."

Kahr kisses him. "Hi yourself." Another kiss, longer this time. "You up for more?"

Thank god Hyuga won't be back until dawn. "Always." Sigurd pulls Kahr down with him, tangling their limbs together, and leans in to kiss him breathless.

He knows where he belongs.


End file.
